


fifth year

by flatwoods



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Fluff, M/M, also i havent proofread this since i wrote it initially a few weeks back, so i put it on the internet for validation, so like Be Warned i guess, this is really stupid but i couldnt stand writing it and not doing anything with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 15:43:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14405283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flatwoods/pseuds/flatwoods
Summary: “I think I fell for you third year. But I didn’t properly realize it until the start of fifth.” I’m sort of praying he doesn’t remember what he was like in fifth year, and sort of praying he does.“Fifth year…” Snow looks like he’s thinking. (A rare expression on him.) Something terrible crosses his face, and he looks up, aghast. “No. Fifth year, really?”“Fifth year.”Snow looks like he might just die on the spot.





	fifth year

Snow’s lying between my knees, his head on my chest, watching some baking show. I’m not paying any attention to the cakes onscreen—I’m distracted, running my fingers through his hair. (His curls may be tangled, but they’re never knotted or frizzy, despite the fact that he doesn’t use anything more than drugstore shampoo on them. Honestly, it’s unfair.)

I feel him stir a little in my arms. “Did you really want me since we met?”

“What?” I remember it just before he says it. (I can’t imagine why he’s saying it now.) “You know, that first night. I asked you for how long, how long you’d known you wanted this, and you said almost since when we met.” He turns around and sits up, facing me. My hands are suddenly curl-less. I keep staring at him. 

“Where did that come from?” He tilts his head forwards a bit and gives me half a sideways smile. “I dunno. Just thinking. About you.”

I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean. But somehow it’s melting my insides. Why, I have no idea.

“So did you honestly? I can’t believe it.” I instinctively want to brush him off with a snarky remark, but I’m still warm from having him lie against me, and he puts one of his hands over mine, and I realize I want to indulge him. Even if I’m still utterly lost as to why and how he’s asking me this now. Even if telling him any specifics is liable to kill me.

“I… God, I really did.” It’s not until I start talking that I realize I might actually die of mortification. I’m sure that if I’d fed more recently, I’d be blushing. “I think I fell for you third year. But I didn’t really realize it until the start of fifth.” I’m sort of praying he doesn’t remember what he was like in fifth year, and sort of praying he does.

“Fifth year…” Snow looks like he’s thinking. (A rare expression on him.) Something terrible crosses his face, and he looks up, aghast. “No. Fifth year, really?”

“Fifth year.”

Snow shakes his head at me, like he’s willing it not to be true. I thought I’d be the one embarrassed, but he’s turning bright red. He leans forward, drops the hand he’s been holding, blinks at me with wide blue eyes. He’s struggling with words again, stuttering something out. Crowley, he looks mortified. “You mean the year I—I followed you everywhere, and into the Catacombs, and—“

“—And I was trying to figure out if I was actually gay, and struggling to deal with being a fucking vampire, and desperate for a single bloody moment of peace to sort my life out? And you trailed me like a dog all year? Yes.” Snow looks like he might just die on the spot. He collapses backward, dramatically, hands over his face and tangled in his hair. His limbs are sprawled out all over the sofa. He’s so much, he’s always so much—I know I’m taller, but it’s like his presence is bigger. Like he fills up a room. I can practically feel him overflowing with emotion at any given moment. “Oh God. Fucking hell.” After a few seconds, he looks up at me with a pained and sort of sheepish grin spreading across his face. “I’m the thickest person alive, aren’t I.” 

I kind of want to thump him with a cushion, but I don’t. I just smirk at him. Deliberately and smugly. This wasn’t the outcome I expected, and thank God for that. I should’ve counted more on Snow’s ability to make everything about himself. “The fact that it’s taken you this long to figure that out should be an indication.” 

He groans again. “Baz, how. How did you not—it’s lucky I wasn’t the one who fell for you first, I would’ve exploded. Maybe literally.”

“You know… why didn’t you? You weren’t trained to hate me from birth, and for someone who apparently never thought about me before, you seemed to know exactly what you wanted right from the start.” 

Snow flushes again, but he’s sort of smiling, too. “Fuck, Baz, I don’t know. You know full well—”

“I know, you don’t think, right. How’d you ever end up with Wellbelove, if you can’t spare a second of your precious time to figure out who you want to snog?”

“Well, hm.” Snow puts on an exaggerated thoughtful expression, or at least something that’s supposed to be one. I think he’s trying to raise one eyebrow. It doesn’t work. “Who would I be most likely to find attractive, if I’m not thinking too deeply?”

“Or not thinking at all,” I interject, but he keeps talking. “The pretty girl with gorgeous hair who’s nice to me, or my roommate who spends most of his time telling me he hates me and _has tried to kill me three times?_ ”

“Wellbelove gets a ‘pretty,’ but I don’t get anything, and I’m the one you’re actually dating?”

“Fine. My stunningly hot roommate who spends most of his time telling me he hates me and has tried to hill me three times.” He flicks his eyes over to me and grins shamelessly. So much for embarrassment.

Judging by the look on his face, he knows _I_ know he’s right. So maybe it’s my own fault it took us this long.

“Fair enough.” Snow laughs a little and maneuvers his way around on the sofa until he’s leaning against me, head on my shoulder. Because I had my back to the sofa’s edge before, we’re now both crammed onto one edge of the couch. We probably look ridiculous.

He holds my hand loosely. We settle back into each other.

“We got there eventually, though.” He speaks after almost a minute of just watching the TV. I’d sort of assumed the conversation was over. “What?”

“Even if it took a stupidly long time. We figured it out eventually.” He’s looking up at me with his plain blue eyes, curls brushing my cheek, and I realize that just a month ago, I would never have imagined this moment—Simon Snow, love in his voice, curled up on my arm while we watch something disgustingly domestic and my heart feels sappy and slow—would ever be possible. Now, I can’t imagine a world in which is isn’t. 

Well. I could imagine a world in which it isn’t. I guess maybe I’m dead there. Maybe we both are.

I decide to borrow one of Snow’s tricks and not think about it. 

I lean over and kiss him behind the ear. “God, I’m so glad we did.”

**Author's Note:**

> so im working on a longer multichapter thing rn, but i got really impatient while writing it, and to hold myself off from preemtively posting a chapter before it's really done i decided to post this. also no promises on the longer fic bc i have a history of abandoning projects partway through lmaoo


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